


Common People

by lickerish, notallbees



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bad Parenting, Closeted Character, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Sex Work, Rich kid/Poor kid, This Is Not A Date, idiot boyfriends, is this a date?, references to homelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickerish/pseuds/lickerish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“So, in light of some of the charming messages I woke up to this morning, I just wanna reiterate that it's <b>not</b> a sex thing.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>“No, I got that,” Steve said. His voice was light, but his eyes stayed on Bucky even as he sipped his coffee and set it down again. “I wouldn’t mind a little more explanation, though.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sheltered Harvard student Bucky realizes he’s only got a few precious years where it’ll be socially acceptable for him to get into trouble — only he doesn’t have anyone to get into it with, or any idea where to start even if he did. Then he meets Steve, a former foster kid recently off the streets, who knows all about getting into trouble. They're both looking for their own kind of independence - although maybe they shouldn't go looking for it on Craigslist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common People

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [Common People](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuTMWgOduFM) by Pulp. See also this [cover by William Shatner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ainyK6fXku0), for obvious reasons.

[ ](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/104943650850/lickerswish-and-i-are-writing-an-au-where-steve-is)

Bucky was exhausted by the time he finally got home on Friday night. He glanced at his watch. Saturday morning. Close enough. 

“It’s pretty late, kid. Even for you.”

Bucky shrugged and sauntered past the doorman, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. “I guess.”

The guard muffled a laugh as Bucky walked away, but at least he kept his thoughts to himself. The previous guard used to try and joke with him about getting pussy, offering to help Bucky sneak a girl in if he wanted. It took him a while to decide that the guy was just desperate for some action, and not that he'd worked things out. 

His parents were already in bed, but Bucky found a note stuck on the door to his rooms.

_James,_  
_It's almost 1am and you're still not home. We will discuss your behavior in the morning._  
_There'd better not be anything on twitter._

Bucky scowled and crumpled up the note. It was just after two AM. This was the first time he'd stayed out late in almost two weeks, so of course they'd pick tonight to get on his case. He threw the note over his shoulder, but as he opened the door, a voice behind him made him freeze.

"James."

Bucky groaned and turned to glance over his shoulder. "Don’t worry, Dad, I’m going to bed."

"Enjoyable evening?" his father asked in a cool, gruff tone. 

"Not bad,” Bucky said with a shrug. 

"I hope you're still being careful." Bucky frowned. He hated the way they always talked in double meanings and euphemisms around him. He stared back at his father blankly, deliberately misunderstanding, forcing him to clarify his meaning. "None of us wants a repeat of last summer."

"Right," Bucky said in a sullen, dejected voice. “That would be awful.”

His father took a step towards him, which would've been more menacing without the fluffy bathrobe, but was still threatening enough for Bucky to bite his tongue. "Listen to me, son," he growled. "If you make a fool of this family again, your mother and I will not stand behind you."

"One strike," Bucky said quietly. "Got it."

His father nodded. “And don’t you forget it.” He carried on down the hallway, and Bucky ducked through his door and closed it quietly behind him. Slamming doors got him nowhere; he’d learned that a long time ago. He went into his bedroom and sat down on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall. _Last summer_. That was the closest his parents ever came to talking about it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and, without thinking, thumbed in the first number that came to mind. 

Bucky looked down at the screen. He wouldn’t call it. He never did. For a moment, he wanted to scream and throw his phone against the wall, to pull everything off his bookshelf and smash all the placid framed pictures and meaningless awards. Instead, he sighed quietly and deleted the number from the screen. He was still angry, his insides screaming with it, his stomach hollow and sick with loneliness. Just once, he wanted to go out and have some fun, do something _he_ wanted to do without looking over his shoulder. 

The feeling made a solid knot in his chest. He didn't _want_ to sit around anymore, waiting to be told what to do with his life. Bucky went over to his desk and switched on the computer. 

 

 

There was a whole stack of messages waiting for Bucky when he woke up. He’d fielded a couple before falling asleep. Call him naive, but Bucky hadn’t expected such a creative or unsettling range of propositions to what he’d thought was a fairly innocuous request for company. He’d amended the ad to make it clear just how platonic and non-sexual he intended it to be, but most of the new messages were along the same vein. He scrolled through, becoming more disheartened with each new threat to his supposed innocence, but at last he came across a response from someone called Steve that sounded promising. Steve had suggested they meet later that day, at a Pavement coffee place on Commonwealth. Bucky checked the time; the location Steve had picked was out near Boston U, and when he factored in his chores and homework, he realized he’d be late if he didn’t hurry. He sent a quick reply, promising to be there by three, then launched himself towards the bathroom. 

Bucky arrived a couple of minutes early and took a seat on a bench, trying to look casual. It had taken him almost an hour to choose his outfit. He’d settled on a pair of slim, pale blue jeans, and a plaid shirt under a grey sweater. September had come on with a chill, but even without a coat he was still sweating beneath his clothes. 

"Get a grip," he told himself firmly. Bucky waited for almost ten minutes, hands buried in his pockets, glancing at his phone every thirty seconds, before asking himself how long he was willing to wait for Steve to show up. At last, he looked up and caught the eye of a skinny blond guy watching him from across the street. He was cute, and Bucky smiled at him warmly before looking away again. Glancing at his phone, he saw that Steve was already fifteen minutes late, but he decided to wait until two thirty: another fifteen minutes. That seemed fair. As he slid his phone back in his pocket, he caught sight of the skinny guy again. He was still watching Bucky, and he still didn't smile, but this time he pushed himself away from the wall and crossed the street.

"I bet I can guess your name in three tries," he said as he walked over. 

Bucky smiled politely. "Uh, I'm actually waiting for someone."

"No no, give me a chance, I'm real good at this." Up close, he was younger than Bucky had thought, maybe sixteen or seventeen at most, and his clothes looked well-worn. He shrugged, and the kid smirked. "How about Francis?"

Bucky pulled a face. "My parents aren't _that_ mean."

He nodded. "Okay, okay, just warming up. I'm gonna say ... Ryan?"

"You really suck at this," Bucky said with a snort.

The kid waved one gloved hand dismissively. "Fine, then I guess it's not Bucky either?"

Bucky groaned. "Shit. You're Steve, aren't you?"

"Guilty. So, I believe you said you'd buy me a fancy drink and we'd discuss business?"

He walked into the café, holding the door behind him for Bucky, and paused just inside to slip off his jacket. “You wanna sit by the window?” Bucky shrugged, and Steve nodded. “I’ll grab us some seats.”

There were three people in line ahead of him, and once he’d skimmed over the menu, Bucky took the opportunity to watch Steve over at the table. He was sitting very still, watching people go by on the sidewalk, and the warm sunlight made a halo around his silhouette. His hair was short and messy, maybe in need of a cut, but it suited him. Bucky really hoped he was over eighteen. Either way, he really needed to stop staring. 

“Hi there, what can I get you?”

Bucky brought the drinks over to the table, and tried to smile non-threateningly as he set them down. “Hey,” he said needlessly, sliding into his chair. “You said fancy, so I got the fanciest sounding one on the menu.”

Steve pulled the huge mug towards him and leaned forward to sniff it. One corner of his mouth tilted a little. “This looks good, thanks.”

“So, in light of some of the charming messages I woke up to this morning, I just wanna reiterate that it's _not_ a sex thing.”

“No, I got that,” Steve said. His voice was light, but his eyes stayed on Bucky even as he sipped his coffee and set it down again. “I wouldn’t mind a little more explanation, though.”

Bucky cleared his throat and tried to decide how to start. He’d practiced at home, but the speech he’d prepared didn’t seem right anymore, now that he was sitting across from an actual person, who was eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “It seems really stupid now that I'm actually face to face with you,” Bucky said sheepishly. He chewed his lower lip for a moment while he considered what to say. “You know, I almost cancelled, but-” He shook his head and sighed. “I dunno, it’s all pretty dumb now that I’m trying to explain it.”

Steve eyed him for a moment, the mug poised in his hands, then shrugged. “You can still change your mind.” He took a sip of his drink and raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “Maybe you’re looking for a date and you just don’t know it. I guess you’re out of my league.”

“No, no, dude,” Bucky said quickly, “you - no, you’re cute as hell.” He winced. “I didn’t mean - shit, sorry, I'm just not sure how to say it.”

“Come on,” Steve said, laughing softly. “You already warned me it’d sound weird, and I showed up anyway. If it’s really nothing shady, I won’t judge.” Bucky frowned, strangely nervous. Steve took in his expression for a beat, looking nearly sympathetic, and amended himself. “Much.” 

Considering that he knew nothing about Steve, really, and Steve knew nothing about him yet, Bucky found himself strangely anxious to impress, or at least give the impression that he wasn't a complete idiot. Steve _was_ cute, but Bucky was already worried about how young he looked. He took a deep breath and had another shot at explaining. “Okay, so - I don't really know the city very well, and my parents are pretty strict so I don’t meet that many people outside of school.” He turned his mug in his hands. “This sounds so lame. I'm just - kinda looking for someone to do stuff with? Kinda like a - a guide?”

Steve swirled his finger around the lip of his mug, and licked caramel colored foam off it. “A guide,” he said flatly, his expression wary but curious. The pique of interest there reassured Bucky that perhaps he wasn’t _completely_ insane.

“Yeah!” he said, with a sudden burst of inspiration. “Like, you know those befriending services they have for people with social anxiety or mental health problems?” He winced slightly, because _that_ was hardly the way to sell himself, but Steve was nodding thoughtfully. “Anyway, I guess that's kinda what I'm looking for.”

Steve nodded again, and for one hopeful moment Bucky thought he'd actually explained it right. “No, that makes sense,” Steve said, his voice neutral. “You wanna get out and do stuff, but you need someone to go with you. Like--” He cocked his head a little, and Bucky realized with a sinking feeling that the air of amusement was fading from his expression. “To escort you. Hm, you’re right, I _have_ heard of that.”

Bucky’s eyes widened anxiously. “No no, I don’t-”

“Listen,” Steve said, cutting him off. “You seem genuine enough, and I wanna believe you, but it’s not adding up. You're young, you've got money--” He paused and ran his eyes over Bucky. “You’re good-looking--” Bucky flushed, more embarrassed than flattered. “-- Someone like you oughta be able to make friends, even with social anxiety.” He paused for a moment, and he gave Bucky a small, tight smile. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but if someone’s offering me money, I gotta know what it’s for. Try one more time.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said quietly, feeling small and stupid. He forced himself to look at Steve. “I swear I’m not trying to pull anything, I just. I don't have any friends, I guess. Not really. Everyone I know is so fucking shallow, or coked to the eyeballs, or _both_.” Steve was watching him patiently, giving nothing away in his expression, and Bucky looked away with a bitter jab of laughter. “And you’re right. I’m not so fucked-up I can’t find someone else to hang out with. But that doesn’t tend to go well. I’m always…” He felt a swell of anger and tried to force it back down. “I’m always being _managed._ Like I have to get a form signed in triplicate just to have coffee with someone."

"Did you get one signed for today?" Steve was teasing, but he didn't look unkind. Bucky appreciated the reprieve.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll file the paperwork when I get home. Anyway, it's -- too much, for most people. So until I’m on my own, it’s better to just…” He cast around for a moment. “Just stick to myself, I guess.”

"That sucks," Steve said, looking at him with sympathy.

Bucky laughed at himself. "I’ve missed out on so much that I don’t even know what I’m missing anymore. I’m not trying to buy myself a friend -- _or a date_ \--” He was surprised by how angry he felt, and he paused to take a breath and push the feeling aside. “-- I just want to hang around someone who’s not a complete douchebag.”

To his surprise, Steve didn’t laugh, or get up and walk away. He nodded to himself for a moment, then he leaned forward and folded his arms on the edge of the table. “Okay,” he said, sounding so businesslike that Bucky almost wanted to laugh. At himself, mostly. “I think I get it.” He tapped his fingers against his right elbow and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Bucky watched the flesh turn from white back to pink. “Any idea what kind of stuff you wanna do?”

“Some?" He smiled self-consciously. "I started writing a list while I caught the T over here. I'm open to suggestions.”

Steve nodded and gestured for him to get on with it. “Let's hear some of it.”

He had that ironic half-smile again, so Bucky reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his notebook. “Here, take a look if you want.”

Steve flipped open the notebook and leaned back in his chair to read it. The list wasn’t very long -- Bucky had been thinking about this for less than twenty-four hours, and had only scribbled down a handful of ideas. Steve scanned the list a couple of times. “Okay, this looks fun,” he said after a moment, looking up at Bucky. “We can work with this.” 

Bucky smiled in relief. “So, I’m pretty busy with college, but I have a lot of free time still. How often do you wanna meet up?”

“How about we do one a week, just to see if we hate each other,” Steve said, smiling wryly. “I mean, you seem pretty tough to take.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, looking down at his drink. “You’re an asshole too.”

Steve laughed. “So, you live in the city?”

Bucky nodded. “My parents moved to Back Bay a couple of years ago, and it was easier to stay with them while I’m studying.”

Steve let out a low whistle. “Downtown, huh? Nice. Convenient.”

“It’s okay.”

“So, how do you wanna explain me to your family?”

Bucky snorted. “Hopefully I won’t have to. My dad works sixty hours a week, and my mom is always off doing social shit and charity work. I have a little sister, but she’s at prep school.”

“Then I guess we’re covered.” Steve glanced down at the list again. “Before I say yes, I’m gonna set some ground rules.” Bucky nodded, and Steve continued. “No drinking, no drugs. You do whatever you want, but I won’t be joining in.”

“Of course,” Bucky said, frowning slightly. He wanted to point out that he didn't drink anyway, but Steve kept going.

He started checking off on his fingers. “If I say we can’t go somewhere, or we have to leave, you accept. No questions asked. You cover food, transport, expenses, whatever. And I need payment up front for each meeting. Is that gonna be a problem?”

Bucky sat back and stared at him for a moment. He felt a surge of disappointment; Steve had looked at him and seen exactly what everyone else did: a rich, lazy jackass, fucking and drinking his way through his family’s money. But then, he reasoned, people much closer to him than Steve believed those things about him, so why shouldn’t a stranger? “Fine,” Bucky said calmly. He could feel anxiety creeping over him, and he took a couple of shallow breaths, trying not to let it show on his face. “No drinking, no drugs, nothing creepy. Got it.” He pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Steve just shrugged affably and picked up his coffee with a blissful look on his face. Bucky edged past the line at the counter to reach the bathroom at the back. Inside, he ran his hands under the cold water for a minute until he felt calmer, and he looked at himself in the mirror. He checked his phone. There was a message from his father, saying simply _Call my office._ Bucky scowled and deleted the text. He dried his hands and took a deep breath before letting himself back out. Steve was facing the other direction, and Bucky watched him for a moment before walking back over to the table. 

“Hey,” Steve said, smiling at him when he took his seat again. “This coffee is fucking amazing.”

Bucky smiled. “You picked the venue.”

“Just goes to show how smart I am.”

“I guess so.” Bucky reached for his own empty mug and turned it around in his hands. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

Steve’s grin faltered, but he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a battered-looking wallet and held his ID up next to his face. “Need to take a picture?” Bucky leaned forward to read it. _Steve Rogers. 07/04/1996._

“That’s fine,” he muttered, relieved to see that Steve was at least eighteen. “Listen, I’m thinking maybe this was a stupid idea after all--”

Steve stopped smiling entirely then, and Bucky looked down into his empty mug. “Oh, how come? Did I say something?”

“No,” Bucky said quickly, and made the mistake of looking up at Steve. A beat passed, and Bucky realized he was staring, while Steve watched him and waited. “No, I just--”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Steve said quickly, leaning forward.

Bucky smiled slightly. “Yeah?”

Steve held out his fist. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll go out tomorrow night.”

Bucky started laughing, surprised. Steve smiled, but his face was set with resolve, and Bucky shrugged. “Okay, sure.”

They both held out their hands, and at the same time, counted from one to three. Steve made a fist while Bucky held his palm out flat. “Too bad,” he said, reaching out to cover Steve’s hand with his own. He squeezed gently around Steve’s fist before letting go, surprised to find himself a little disappointed. 

Steve grinned at him. “Best of three?” Bucky laughed again, and when they got to three, Steve made a rock again while Bucky made scissors. “Even Stevens,” Steve said. “You ready?”

“Bring it on,” Bucky said, matching his smile. They counted to three once more, and this time they both chose paper. 

“Oh my god,” Steve said, laughing loudly. “You really don’t wanna go out with me, do you?”

“One more try,” Bucky said, sidestepping that one. “Come on.” He let Steve count on his own this time, and waited half a second extra for him to flatten his hand into paper again before he balled his own fist into a rock. “Shit,” he said softly. “Looks like you win.”

Steve’s mouth quirked, and when he leaned forward to cover Bucky’s fist with his palm, he held onto it. "Tomorrow then?" Bucky caught a hint of anxiety in his expression, but it was gone just as fast. 

Bucky nodded. "Sure, tomorrow's great."

"Awesome." Steve let go, already getting out of his chair, knocking back the last of his drink as he went. "I have to run, but give me your number and we'll make plans.”

They exchanged numbers, and Steve pulled his coat on. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please consider [reblogging this](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/112062781700/common-people-3382-words-by-lickerish) on tumblr :D
> 
> If you enjoy Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, why not try visiting these unique and inspiring tumblr pages: [buckbealady](http://buckbealady.tumblr.com/) and [notallbees](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> In these luxurious enclaves of opulent, homoerotic passion, you will learn to let go of your past regrets and inhibitions, and embrace new joys, such as facewipe fingering, grumpycat!Bucky, and oatmeal.
> 
> lickerish: but we didn't invent grumpycat!bucky  
> notallbees: we didn't invent oatmeal either?


End file.
